


Wonderful, Amazing

by jumpsoap



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, F/M, First Dates, Romance, Soulmates of Sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 15:25:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13216626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpsoap/pseuds/jumpsoap
Summary: Lance grew up thinking he was cursed to never fall in love, but that didn't stop him from mooning over every pretty tourist who passed through his magical little town on the coast. When a new apprentice witch moves in across the street, though, he may have to take a chance that something amazing could happen...





	Wonderful, Amazing

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for Ibu (ibupony on tumblr) for the Allurance Secret Santa Exchange 2017! Ibu had a lot of good ideas but I went with a Witches AU and it ended up being a fairly mundane modern setting anyway. 
> 
> This was somewhat inspired by the movie Practical Magic (1998) but you don't have to have seen that to read this. I also thought a lot about [these lovely witch men](http://brenna-ivy.tumblr.com/tagged/modern-male-witch-project) by brenna-ivy on tumblr which you do have to look at because they're gorgeous :)
> 
> It's been a while since I've spent time with any practicing Wiccans/pagans/witches so if y'all are out there reading this feel free to let me know if you see anything jarring in here.

At age eleven, Lance McClain had already decided that falling in love sounded like the most wonderful, amazing experience anyone could have. That year, he made a mistake.

Since love was so great, he should figure out who he was going to be in love with right away, right?

He found the spell in one of his grandmother’s aged, handwritten books. Her scrawl was hard to read, yet pleasing to see. He could spend hours just tracing the loops with his finger.

The spell stood out to him, so much less specific and more straightforward than the spells to make tomatoes grow sweet or to keep cats from scratching. This one, _A Spell for True Love_ , said simply to pen a spell describing your true love and recite it into a bowl of mirror-cold water on the night of a new moon.

Lance knew something about writing spells. He’d heard his mother’s little rhymes as she bent over her cauldron or her plants. He’d just learned about poems in school, and his teacher had told him that he had a gift for poetry, causing him to puff up with pride.

But who was his true love? How could he describe this person if he didn’t know who this was? He sat out on his lawn looking up as the moon waned, night after night, counting down to the time he would need to perform his spell if he didn’t want to wait a whole new month over, and thought about her.

He thought probably his true love would be a girl. He liked girls a lot, even the annoying ones in his class. He liked watching the women who came to his mother’s shop, women with long hair and sparkling clothing with colorful makeup and jewelry on their ears and necks.

So, for starters, his true love would be a woman, he decided. He laid around at night as the nights became longer and colder and thought about what she might be like.

By the night of the new moon, he had his poem and his cold water, in a metal mixing bowl he found in the kitchen set up in the grass, far enough from his house that only the light of the stars above reflected in the surface of the water.

When he’d squinted at his little poem he’d written and scratched out and written again in the soft journal of handmade paper his mother had given him for spells the year before, he felt the wind still and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His stomach leapt in excitement as he said the words that would bring his true love to him.

Then it had all gone wrong, somehow. A flash of light, a freezing wind, the bowl cracking.

His mother found him, frost on his face and hands despite the unseasonably warm night.

“Did you do this spell?” She was holding his notebook.

He shook his head, the fear in her voice driving him to lie.

She sighed and took his hand, brushing the frost off his face. “Let’s go back to the house, okay?”

 

* * * * *

 

At age 21, Lance McClain had decided, what the hey, love wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, anyway.

“Hey Lance,” Pidge asked, the tone of her voice putting him on edge instantly, “What’s this?”

“What?” he asked sharply, hands still buried in dough for moon cookies. He’d been prepared for some snooping when he’d let his friends into his kitchen, yes, but he thought they’d be happy digging through the herbs and spices in the cabinets; Pidge seemed to have gone straight for the cluttered desk in the corner.

Hunk cut off his view of whatever Pidge was holding in her little raccoon hands. “Ooh, is this a poem? Oh my gosh, did baby Lance write this?” He recited it while Lance stifled a groan:

 

_She has hair like stardust, eyes like hydrangeas at dusk_

_She fell from the sky on a clear night_

_She’s a princess, I’ll be her knight_

_And she’ll love me at first sight._

 

Lance snatched the journal from Pidge with a hastily-wiped hand. “It’s not just a poem,” he said, tying the book closed. “It’s a spell.”

Pidge was furrowing her brow. “A spell for true love?”

“Yeah. It’s supposed to reveal your true love with the things you describe. So of course I went and made up some person who’s never gonna exist.”

“You didn’t actually… do this spell, did you?”

“So what if I did? Best mistake I ever made, now I don’t have to worry about all that romance crud.

“You can cast a love spell without a valid target?”

“This isn’t your stupid card game, Pidge. Spells are all about _believing_ hard enough. I could have cursed myself to fall in love with a mermaid if that’s what I was into back then.”

“Well, there are those ladies that put on mermaid costumes and swim around,” Hunk said. “Do you think that would have counted?”

“Great!” Lance threw up his hands. “Kid me just had to go and say that only a literal space alien would work.”

“She doesn’t have to be a space alien, Lance,” Pidge countered. “I mean, I know it says _she fell from the sky_ , but she could be an astronaut or something. Or maybe there’s a town called The Sky somewhere?”

“Oh, maybe she was born on an airplane! And then, like, fell out of the plane?” Hunk offered.

“Guys, stop. It’s not some riddle that you’re gonna solve for me with your giant brains, okay? It’s just another stupid thing I did, and I’m over it.”

“This is why you’re such a heartbreaker, huh?” Pidge asked him.

“I am not a heartbreaker!” Lance said, although he was a little bit flattered at the suggestion.

“Sarcasm, Lance,” she said, making him deflate.

Hunk narrowed his eyes, and Lance tried to ignore him as he replaced the book in his desk drawer. “Is this why you’ve never asked out that flower shop girl?”

“No,” Lance said, heat rising in his cheeks. “That’s because she hates me anyway.”

“Oh, she does not,” Hunk said.

Allura di Altea worked for the florist just across the way from Lance’s home and herbal remedies storefront; if he looked out the window of his kitchen, he could sometimes see her moving around inside the shop. She’d moved to town a year ago to apprentice with the witch who ran the store, who was a bit of a rival to Lance’s mother.

She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful girl Lance had seen in his entire life, and he made it a point to get an eyeful of any and all of the tourists that swept through their little seaside town from every corner of the world. Allura was on a whole other level above any other woman, somehow coming off as both fantastically intelligent and yet very practical, mature yet fun; powerful, yet approachable. She had a mane of thick, dark hair, lovely smooth skin of almost the same shade, and oaky brown eyes, deep and clear.

Not that Lance had had much opportunity to gaze into her eyes. She had barely spoken five words to Lance, always finding some excuse not to be at the register when Lance came in to pretend to buy flowers.

“Something weird about that girl,” Pidge said with a sniff. “I mean, Allura di Altea? Sounds made up.”

Lance stifled a dreamy sigh along the lines of, _Yeah, isn’t she mysterious?_ and instead turned back to his cookies with the retort, “Okay, _Pidge._ ”

They managed to make it through the rest of the afternoon without any more discussion of Lance’s love life, but once he’d sent Hunk and Pidge home with their bags of cookies, he found himself wandering to the window to look out toward the windows of the florist’s. The shop was closed today, but he thought, for a moment, that he could see one of the blinds flicker with movement.

 

* * * * *

 

Lance only had a few hours of half-hearted relaxation--his friends were all off with their families while he was stuck minding the shop and house while his mother travelled for the holidays--before he was interrupted by vigorous knocking on his front door.

He pulled a robe on over his boxers and wiped the remains of lotion off of his face before creeping downstairs to check the door. He didn’t recognize the knocking, even as it started up again, so he peered through the peephole, and quickly ducked down, face suddenly burning.

“Lance? Lance McClain?” Allura’s voice was melodious even when it was sharp and accusatory.

He cleared his throat, pulled his robe tighter, and grasped the door handle. It was gratifying to see Allura’s cheeks darken and eyes widen when he threw open the door, her hand raised mid-knock.

“Allura! Can I help you?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

To his surprise, she faltered. “I… Well.” She was dressed nicely, out of the pink jumpsuit she normally wore whenever he snuck a peek through the windows of the florist’s, and in an ankle-length dress with a denim jacket over her shoulders.

It was then he noticed the parcel under her arm. “Wh-where’d you get that?” he asked, standing up straight. It was one of his own paper bags of cookies, the ones he’d just made this morning and given to his traitorous friends.

She clutched the bag to her chest, hair seeming to poof up further when she finally looked him in the eye. “They’re not from you?”

Eyes narrowing, he saw a note pinned to the side of the bag: _To Allura, from your secret admirer_.

It had to have been Hunk. Or Pidge. Or the two of them together. Setting him up. Well, fine. He could play along.

“And if they are?” He asked, the picture of relaxation, his face not on fire at all, not even a little.

“If they are, then…” Her hand fiddled with the corner of the bag. “Then, thank you.”

Lance scratched at the back of his head, no longer able to pretend his stomach wasn’t filled with butterflies just from having a conversation with Allura. “...Yeah, I mean, no problem.”

Allura was biting her lip. “Did you…” she started, but stopped herself. “Well, they’re very nice sweets,” she said.

“Thanks,” Lance said quietly. “I’ve got some tea they go really well with. Um, if you want, you could come in, I could make some.” Allura had to like tea with an accent like that, right?

Allura’s sharp brows came together unhappily. “Unfortunately I have a prior engagement,” she said.

“Oh,” Lance said, eyes moving over her outfit again.

“I’ll be helping my teacher with new year’s readings at the community center,” she explained, drawing his eyes back again to see a slightly teasing smile on her lips. “But… what about tonight?”

“You want to have tea tonight?” he asked.

“Not… not necessarily tea,” she said.

“It sounds like you’re asking me on a date,” he said, eyebrow raised.

“It sounds like you’ve got wishful thinking,” she countered, but then demurred. “But we could do something.”

“Well, you’re still kinda new to town, right? I bet you don’t know about the best stargazing spot in the whole state. I could show you.” He paused, suddenly realizing just how _romantic_ and _intimate_ a stargazing date with Allura of all people would sound. “If you’re into that kind of thing.”

“That sounds nice,” she said, and before he could react, she spun around and hopped on her bike, which had been leaning on the railing at the foot of Lance’s steps and set off toward the town center.

“I’ll pick you up at nine,” he called from the doorway after her, then watched as she pedaled out of sight, his heartbeat not slowing for a long time.

 

* * * * *

 

When Lance left his house, jiggling his keys in his jacket pocket, he almost walked straight into Allura, waiting for him at the end of his steps.

“Hey,” he said, brushing hair out of his face, trying to regain his composure. “R-ready to go?”

She smiled, and they got into his car, her fingers trailing over the shining blue of the hood as she walked past it.

“Do you stargaze often?” she asked him once they had set out, the streets already dark, getting darker as they headed out of town.

“Oh, yeah, loads,” he said, snapping his eyes back to the road. He’d been trying to focus on driving, but he kept finding himself sneaking glances at her, hardly believing she was really there in his passenger seat. She was still wearing the cute outfit she’d had on before.

She had a glamor on--not that there was anything wrong with that. Lance used a glamor spell in the mornings, too, although he didn't need much, just a hint of illusion to make his hair look just right, to smooth his skin and make his eyes and teeth a little brighter. He could feel the aura of magic humming around her, filling the quiet car along with the rumble of the engine and the tires on the road.

The silence wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but Lance wasn’t accustomed to it. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, a vision flashing through his mind of reaching out to take Allura’s hand in his, resting their joined hands on the center console of the car as they travelled.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter and blew out a breath.

After an agonizing length of time, they arrived at the lookout point. Allura leaned forward over the dashboard as Lance shut off the car.

“Wow,” she breathed, and Lance blinked at her in the suddenly low light. Silhouetted light by the town below them and the stars above, she seemed to glow at the edges.

“Yeah,” he said, then cleared his throat. “It’s even better outside. Come on.”

They got out of the car, Allura craning her neck all around to look up at the stars. Lance hopped up onto the still-warm hood of the car and she followed, pulling her denim jacket closer around her.

“Is it too cold?” he asked.

She shook her head, and looked at him. “Thank you for bringing me out here, Lance.”

He grinned, puffing up. “Yeah, well, you gotta have someone to show you around, new girl. There’s a really nice river further down the hill, too.”

“I know,” Allura said, suddenly turning her face back to the sky.

“Huh? How?”

Allura’s hands were clasped in her lap, now. “I… Well. Right when I moved here to start my apprenticeship with Madame Honerva, she took me up to the river for a ritual, but… There was already someone there.”

Lance tilted his head, unsure where this was going.

“Someone… Doing a ritual at the river,” Allura said, and coughed delicately into her wrist. “In the nude.”

“Who?” Lance demanded.

“You,” Allura said quietly.

Him. Himself. Oh. He recovered quickly and grinned at her. “I bet you fell in love with me on the spot, huh?”

She crossed her arms. “Well! I certainly wouldn’t go that far. But… there was something about you. I couldn’t help remembering you.”

“Aww, you did! You had a little crush on me!” Then he flopped back onto his elbows, swallowing a sigh but keeping his voice cheerful. “Hey, anybody ever tell you that I’m cursed?”

She dropped her defensive posture and looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Cursed? I don’t feel any curse on you.”

“Well, it’s kind of a special curse. I did it all by myself.” He picked at his fingernails as though he was bragging, although in truth he couldn’t bring himself to look up at her face. His heart was beating so fast it was going to make him sick. He had to tell her, though. She deserved to know that there was something he could never offer her, even if he felt so much like he could almost love her. Even if he felt that maybe he had always loved her.

“I wrote this spell when I was a little kid,” he said casually. “For true love. It’s not really the type of spell you’re supposed to be able to do with you’re that young, but I guess I’m just that awesome. Anyway, you describe your true love and you’ll find them, so of course I dreamed up this crazy girl with silver hair and flower eyes who came from the night sky. It’s, uh, it’s really dumb. But now I’m stuck waiting for some space girl who doesn’t exist.”

He felt her staring at him, and couldn’t bring himself to meet her eye.

“I have something else to confess,” she said, all in a rush.

There was a shift in the energies around them, as though an electric fan had finally been turned off after running for a very long time, and now all was quiet and still. Allura had dropped her glamor.

She was still sitting next to him in her denim jacket and dress, but he gaped at her. Her dark skin was marked with pink symbols, luminescent in the dim light. Her thick hair was now as silver as starlight, and her eyes, unsteady as they roved anxiously over his face, were like nothing he’d ever seen before, blue and pink and sparkling.

“Holy crow,” he breathed. “You’re some kinda alien.” He sat up, trembling. “Allura, you’re... You’re her. You’re the girl from my spell.”

He reached out and touched her hand. He should have been reeling with questions, but his mind felt oddly quiet when their hands came together. Shyly, he let his own minor glamor drop. He felt bare and small and scruffy compared to her.

She smiled at him and touched his cheek. “I wished for you, as well, when we came to this Earth and I was alone and scared. A boy with an ocean’s worth of gentle rain in his heart and his eyes. A boy who would stand shoulder to shoulder with me. Who wears my favorite flower every day.

It seemed impossible, even more impossible than Allura being a living, breathing extraterrestrial. Someone had wished for him? Someone like Allura?

Her hand moved to cup his cheek, and he swallowed thickly. She leaned in and pressed her full lips to his own, warm and soft.

“Allura,” he whispered once they had kissed. “Do you wanna come to the Solstice celebration with me tomorrow?”

“Lance, are you asking me out on a real date?” She asked, resting their foreheads together.

“Yeah,” he said. “A real date. What do you think?”

“I think that sounds wonderfully amazing.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm jumpsoap (personal) and windycockslap (writing/nsfw) on tumblr & windycockslap on kik. Feel free to drop by and send me a message! Criticism, critique and idle chatter are all welcome!


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